


Which Is A Way One Could Say That I Love You

by gayreclinetime



Category: LazyTown
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pining, Slow Burn, sort of but not really, technically mutual pining but i only wrote from robbie's pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 00:17:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9046889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayreclinetime/pseuds/gayreclinetime
Summary: The last time Robbie had truly acknowledged, examined, and honored his feelings, he’d eaten a whole chocolate cake in one sitting and then had promptly fallen asleep on his kitchen floor. He considered doing something similar again, but he knew it would only be a short lived solution to the problem. Something else needed to be done.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i... i kept thinking about how weird it was that everyone painted sportacus as oblivious, and then halfway through writing i thought it was weird assuming robbie was oblivious, and not just armpits deep in denial about having feelings and... well... now you all have this  
> also, the title is taken from the song i love you for psychological reasons, by they might be giants, which i really recommend listen to cuz its all i listened to for weeks while tapping this out. enjoy!

     It was desperately unfair, Robbie thought. He’d never done anything in his life to warrant the trouble he had to endure, the day to day turmoil, the pure bad luck he had even just recently been saddled with. What had he ever been other than the handsome, brilliant, talented paragon of laziness that he was? What could he have  _ possibly  _ done to warrant the karma that came literally backflipping into his life. It was inhumane.

     The cruelest thing about it, though, was that there didn’t seem to be any break from it all. Up above on the surface, he had to endure the noise and the  _ sports  _ and physically taking in the stupid blue elf himself, the dizzying blur that he was more than half the time. Alone in his lair, deprived of sleep? He was toiling over some new scheme to get Sportacus out of town. The fool had even shown up in his dreams more than one time! Grinning his obnoxiously bright grin, insistently tugging Robbie by the arm or holding him, any waking nightmare scenario you could imagine, and Sportacus was his enthusiastic guide.

     The frequency of it began to trouble him a little bit, especially since sometimes he’d wake up so quickly, it knocked the breath out of him. But Robbie, for all his life, had always tackled whatever he was invested in with single-minded focus, so he chalked up Sportacus’s appearances in his dreams up to stress and exertion. 

     If he we smarter, he would’ve sought out some kind of hobby to distract himself.

 

\---

 

     There was another thing about Sportacus, too; the children of course, holding him in such high regard as a hero, didn’t notice it- but Robbie wasn’t as easily fooled. He played humble, unsuspecting, unobservant Hero most of the time, but Robbie had noticed he could be keener than he let on. Trickier, too. There were countless bouts of evidence.

     Just the other day, as an example, Robbie had been masquerading around disguised seamlessly as a bush. He had slunk into the park where Sportacus had been doing… Something ridiculous, with a soccer ball. Kicking it from one leg to the other, bouncing it on one and then exchanging it as one leg looped around the other, getting on his hands and kicking it higher; Robbie had been glued to the spot for a moment. It was rhythmic, almost. In a horribly disruptive kind of way.

 

     “Hi, Robbie!” The sudden greeting had jostled him out of his very immersive espionage.

 

     “What-” Robbie had squawked, like a fool, giving himself away. “No! Robbie’s not here. I’m just a bush.”

 

     “Oh, right,” Sportacus said. “Sorry.”

 

     He went back to playing with the soccer ball, but Robbie could still see Sportacus stealing glances at him, occasionally shaking his head a little, smile on his face. Robbie eyed him back, suspiciously, wondering just what Sportacus wanted- what he was so pleased about, why he kept shaking his head, why he kept  _ looking  _ and him when he wasn’t  _ there _ , he was a  **_bush_ ** . If he was going to try to mess with Robbie in some way, then Robbie was going to mess with him first.

 

     “Don’t mess up,” He mumbled from the bush. “Don’t mess up. Don’t mess up.”

 

     Sportacus’s foot wobbled a little, to his satisfaction, but he just grinned and started bouncing it on his head like a seal. “I won’t! Thank you.”

 

     Robbie huffed in frustration and watched him, getting a headache just imagining hitting his head over and over again. He watched longer than he should have, possibly, because he was trapped when Sportacus suddenly stopped and caught the ball in his arms, looked back over at Robbie, and gave a quick wink.

     Robbie all but bristled at the gesture, springing right up, forgetting his disguise for a moment. Now he wasn’t a bush so much as a pair of legs with a face and a bushy mane of leaves, and it suddenly occurred that this was probably Sportacus’s plan in the first place- to catch him off guard, to make him look silly.

 

     “Did you want a turn?” Sportacus, pretending to be chipper and oblivious, eagerly offered Robbie the ball. Robbie, panicking, kicked it straight out of his hands and over a wall, where Sportacus watched it sail through the air with an awed expression. When he turned around to say “Good kick, Robbie!”, he was already halfway down the nearest manhole.

 

\---

 

    Robbie could only take comfort in the fact that Sportacus must have been equally obsessed with tricking and getting rid of Robbie as he was with him. It only made sense; after all, they were nemeses, and the way that naturally worked out meant Sportacus was probably up in his blimp at that very moment, thinking of the loudest sport he could teach the children next in the effort of bothering Robbie.

 

_ Except,  _ some part of Robbie was reflecting,  _ the children are usually  _ already  _ being noisy before he shows up. He probably isn't thinking about you at all. _

 

__ The thought, for a moment, twisted Robbie’s stomach. He didn't know which thought was worse.

 

\---

 

    He really  _ did  _ need a new hobby, direly, because in he was beginning to think about Sportacus a lot. In his day to day affairs, outside of scheming. He thought about the fact that it was ridiculous that Sportacus didn't wear any winter clothes outside of the raggedy little scarf he had knitted, and how it seemed like he just wanted any opportunity to show off his stupid muscles, and how distressing it was that Robbie had been paying attention to said stupid muscles. He thought about how many times he had fallen directly into Sportacus’s arms, and the fact that it was far too many to be purely coincidence. He thought about how infuriatingly nice Sportacus was. No matter how rotten, tricky, or downright rude Robbie was; no matter how many times he had tried to run him out of town, Sportacus was always so strangely patient and cheerful and  _ nice _ . He made it a point to let Robbie know he worried about him. That he wanted to be friends.

 

    He wanted to be  _ friends _ . Something about the whole concept made Robbie feel peculiar; at first he thought shamed and embarrassed, but that wasn't it. It made his heart jump into his throat like embarrassment, and it tied his stomach up in knots just as similar, but he didn't feel embarrassed. It was something different. Something… Fuzzier.

    The last time Robbie had truly acknowledged, examined, and honored his feelings, he’d eaten a whole chocolate cake in one sitting and then had promptly fallen asleep on his kitchen floor. He considered doing something similar again, but he knew it would only be a short lived solution to the problem. Something else needed to be done.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephanie laughed. “No! That’s more like a crush.” As soon as the realization hit her, she didn’t skip a beat. “Robbie- do you have a crush on someone?”
> 
> “What? Eugh, no!” He protested. “Crushes are for babies!”

     Because Robbie was only selectively a quitter, he knew by heart which sacrifices could be performed only partially. That’s why he had swallowed enough of his pride to ask for help, but not enough that he had watched the streets carefully for three hours to ensure almost nobody else was out, and had put on a simple but effective disguise. Sunglasses and boa secure, he wormed his way up onto the surface, towards where he’d seen the pink girl last.

     Stephanie (he was mostly sure that was her name) seemed to be maybe the only eight-year-old Robbie had met who had any common sense. Sportacus was usually the one dealing out life lessons and advice, but there was no possible way Robbie could have talked to him, and considering Stephanie had helped him out once or twice he figured it was his next best shot. Besides, she knew all about this… Touchy-Feely… Friendship thing anyways.

 

     At the moment, she was jumping rope, reciting some kind of rhyme to herself as she did so. Robbie gave his best effort to scoot around and in front of her at a wide range, instinctively flinching as the rope swung anywhere near him. She was surprised, to say in the least, when she saw him coming into orbit. He ended up with a faceful of jump rope.

 

     “Who are you?” She asked.

 

     Robbie lowered his sunglasses. Stephanie immediately let out a gasp.

 

     “Robbie Rotten!”

 

     “Shh, shh shh shh!” He urged, one hand with a finger to his lips, the other waving wildly. “Not so loud! I’m in disguise for a reason.”

 

     She was squinting at him now, hands poised on her hips, as suspicious as any elementary schooler could look. “What are you planning, Robbie?”

 

     “Wouldn’t you like to know?” She looked twice as unimpressed, on her tiptoes now to glare at Robbie from a fairer vantage point. Robbie put his hands up in defeat. “Fine, nothing! No evil scheme today.”

 

     That seemed to satisfy her enough. She stood flat on her feet again, smiling instead of suspicious. “Good! So then, why the disguise?”

 

     Robbie fiddled with the feathers on his boa. “I didn’t want anybody to see me out here because… Because…” It took a few moments of him retching before he spit out, “Because I need your help.”

 

     “It’s not bad thing to ask for help!” At his groaning, she continued, “ _ Okay _ , I promise not to tell anyone you asked me for help. So what  _ do  _ you need help with?”

 

     Robbie found something very interesting on the floor that suddenly, he absolutely needed to inspect, with his complete and undivided attention.

 

     “ _ Robbie. _ ” Robbie put his boa in his mouth and started gnawing. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong!”

 

     “You’re just going to make fun of me,” He spit out. “Or tell all your little friends.”

 

     She looked horrified at the idea. “No I wouldn’t! I promised, remember?” To make her point, Stephanie was now insistently shoving her pinky in his direction. He swatted it away.

 

     “Okay, okay! Fine!” Still not looking at her, he went on, “What if… Just, as a made up idea, what if… You wanted to be friends with somebody, but… You weren’t very good at it, and you didn’t know how.”

 

     “Well that depends,” She said. “How good of friends did you want to be? And with who?”

 

     Robbie offered a noncommittal shrug, shoulders hunched high. “I don’t know! How good of a friend can you be?”

 

     “Sometimes you can be friends with somebody, or you can be  _ best  _ friends with somebody.”

 

     Robbie snorted. “What’s the difference?”

 

     Stephanie thought for a moment, and then shrugged. “I don’t know! Sometimes it just feels different.”

 

    “Feels different how?” He asked. He wadded up the fabric over his stomach in his hands. “You mean… like a bellyache?”

 

    Stephanie laughed. “No! That’s more like a crush.” As soon as the realization hit her, she didn’t skip a beat. “Robbie- do you have a  _ crush  _ on someone?”

 

    “What? Eugh, no!” He protested. “Crushes are for babies!”

 

     It was too late. She was grinning ear to ear now, bouncing on the balls of her feet, giddier than he’d ever seen her- and that was saying something. “You do! You have a crush on someone! I  _ knew  _ you were just a big softie- nobody’s really that rotten!”

 

    “This is not helpful!” He turned to leave, but now Stephanie was clinging to his boa, tripping over herself and begging for him to wait. With no escape route in sight, he tried to lean back to but some distance between them, and insisted again “I do  _ not  _ have a crush.”

 

     “You don’t have a crush,” She said, with that face that still said ‘you do have a crush’. “I think… If you want to get close to this ‘friend’, you have to tell them how you feel. Just be honest with them and tell them you’d like to be friends!”

 

    “That,” Robbie said, tugging on his boa. “Is terrible advice.”

 

    “No it’s not!” Stephanie argued as Robbie finally sprung free. He whipped the boa around, specifically away from her hands.

  
     “Yes it is! I should have just stayed at home and taken a nap from the beginning.” He straightened himself out, as much as he could, and left with a petulant “Goodbye!”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For one thing, he’d finally put his finger on why Sportacus’s constant efforts to be his friend had made him feel so strange. They were just that; constant, and every time Robbie found himself wanting to say ‘yes’. But every time he stopped himself, and found that even considering it made him feel… guilty.

     He wished he’d never asked for help in the first place, because not even two days after he had, Robbie had begun having some truly horrifying revelations that he could not sleep off or ignore.

     For one thing, he’d finally put his finger on why Sportacus’s constant efforts to be his friend had made him feel so strange. They were just that; constant, and every time Robbie found himself wanting to say ‘yes’. But every time he stopped himself, and found that even considering it made him feel… guilty. Sportacus had plenty of friends; in each of the children, in the mayor and his secretary, even in every new person who came into town. What did he need him for? What if they did become friends, only for Sportacus to realize he didn’t need Robbie- didn’t want him, being the terrible friend Robbie was sure he’d turn out to be. What was worse, what if Robbie started to rub off on him?

     For another, the fact that Robbie rubbing off on Sportacus was now a terrible thing rather than a goal he should be pursuing was enough to choke him up when he thought about it too hard. Sportacus was energetic, he was passionate, and he was painfully earnest. Sportacus was helpful, and he believed in everyone, and he made everyone feel important. He made  _ Robbie  _ feel important. Robbie, in comparison, couldn’t think of even two similarly good things to say about himself, if he was truly being honest; a practice he’d lately uncomfortably been considering lately, huddled alone in his lair.

     He supposed it only made sense, really, when it came down to it. Like he’d said; it was the natural order of things. Sportacus was the good guy, and Robbie was his opposite.

 

\---

 

     Every comfort in Robbie’s life was cursed. He may have just been plain cursed, actually, now that he really thought about, because otherwise how could so many things go so unbelievably wrong for him? He’d managed to combat complete and total, self-isolating despair with two things and two things only. One, there was no feasibly way that Sportacus knew how Robbie thought about him; between the constant plots to get him out of town and the fact that he had a streak of obliviousness in him, Robbie was confident his complex feelings would be a secret that would be buried along with his cold, dead body. Two, with the consistent plots to run Sportacus out of town (and maybe if he upped the ante), Sportacus may finally abandon all hope of being friends with him, and would just outright hate him, provided Robbie a neat and easy opt out of his own feelings.

     This is, of course, not at all what happened.

 

     Upping the ante was, in  _ theory _ , scientifically guaranteed to work, with no consequences. In action it was actually very dangerous and counterproductive, because Robbie managed to end up in actual, real trouble. And Sportacus, predictably, was the one to save him. In front of everybody.

     The details weren’t worth mentioning, but the long and short of it was that Robbie needed to listen to his gut-wrenching fear of heights more and leave Sportacus’s blimp well and enough alone. Maybe then he wouldn’t saved in a (he had to begrudgingly admit) dashing show of heroics, from a life-threatening drop, ending up cradled in a certain hero’s arms with his disguise lost to the wind.

 

     “Robbie!” Sportacus had been fretting over him since they had ended up on the ground. “Are you okay?”

 

     “Fine,” Robbie said, only a little shakily. He realized he’d been in Sportacus’s arms for maybe too long. He tried to squirm his way out of them. “Now put me down.”

 

     Sportacus just frowned at him. “Are you sure you’re okay? That was very dangerous, maybe you should-”

 

     “I said  _ put  _ me  _ down _ , Sportaspoon!” Robbie began kicking his legs in earnest now. “Now!”

 

     Sportacus did not look convinced, but to Robbie’s relief, he obliged, setting him softly back down on his feet. He did however lay a worried hand on Robbie’s shoulder when he began to wobble a bit. Robbie, glaring, weakly shook him off.

 

     “Are you sure you’re alright?”

 

     “Never better. Now leave me alone.”

 

    “But-!”

 

     Robbie was already turning one heel, ready to stomp off and sulk under about seven different blankets for a few weeks, when he saw something a few feet from him blocking his path. It was Stephanie, who looked, for lack of a better description, about as absolutely miffed as Robbie had seen any person, of any age, in his entire life. She had her hands on her hips, squinting at him accusingly, and with a finality that Robbie assumed was used in executions, pointed for him to turn his butt right back around and… Well, he didn’t exactly know. Apologize to Sportacus, maybe.

     Robbie was absolutely not afraid of an eight year old. But maybe it would keep Sportacus from breaking into his house to check on him later.

 

     “I… Not really.” Oh. What? Why did he say that!

 

     Sportacus’s response was imminent. “You’re hurt?” He asked, wide-eyed with terror.

 

     “No! No, I’m not hurt, I-” Why was he still talking? Had he forgotten that they had an audience? “I can’t… I  _ won’t  _ talk about it here.”  _ Or ever _ , He tried to tell himself, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

     Sportacus, looking perplexed but not as horrified as before, simply nodded and looked between Robbie and the crowd. He gave him a final pat on the shoulder, hand lingering for just a few minutes, before going to reassure and disperse everybody.

     Robbie lingered, wondering why on earth he  _ was  _ lingering. He should have snuck off and climbed down the nearest manhole, but for whatever reason, his feet seemed planted to the spot. He’d managed to force himself to turn around, stealing a few hesitant glances over his shoulders, and had made it all but one step before Sportacus spoke up behind him again.

 

     “What’s wrong?” He asked.

 

     Robbie forced himself to turn back stiffly around. “Hm? Oh… Nothing. Must’ve forgotten it.”

 

     He wished he could punch himself in the gut, the way Sportacus’s disappointed expression made him feel disappointed in himself. “Didn’t seem like nothing.” Robbie shrugged noncommittally. “ _ Robbie _ .”

 

     “Oh, you wouldn’t understand!” Robbie retorted, suddenly beginning to feel angry- either at himself or Sportacus. He wasn’t sure. “How could you? Everybody  _ likes  _ you.”

 

     “Everybody likes you, too!”

 

     “Hah! Pfft. No they don’t.” Robbie couldn’t help but smile. “Nobody likes me.”

 

     “I like you,” Sportacus insisted. His voice was strangely soft; the quietest Robbie had ever heard him. “I like you a lot.”

 

     “You… No you don’t,” He shook his head, almost trying to convince himself.

 

     “I do!” Robbie’s hands were at his temples now, as if to protect himself from something, shaking his head more wildly. Sportacus came forward and, gently as possible, pried Robbie’s hands off and held them both in his own. “Robbie. I do. I like you very much.”

 

     “Why!” Robbie said. “What could you possibly like about me?”

 

     “Well…” Sportacus started. His cheeks, Robbie noticed, had gone a little red. “You’re fun! I always have fun around you. And the kids do, too. And you’re creative, and very smart! And very handsome.”

 

     Robbie was waiting for the part where Sportacus told him he was joking. He searched his face for it, but Sportacus’s expression was painfully, brilliant honest. He had a soft smile on his face that just managed to scrunch up his crow's feet, and  _ wait,  _ Robbie found himself asking in a blind panic,  _ when did his face get so close _ .

 

     “You don’t mean that,” He protested weakly.

 

     “Why would you think I didn’t like you?”

 

     It took all his willpower, but Robbie loosened his hands from Sportacus’s hold, gesturing at himself. “Robbie  _ Rotten _ ,” He said, lip curling in spite of himself. “All in the name, don’t you think?”

 

     Sportacus frowned. “But you’re not  _ really  _ like that. Not all the time. You can be a very nice guy.”

 

     That was not heart warming. That was not heart warming and it didn’t make him proud of himself, some how, and it didn’t give him a fuzzy feeling and butterflies in his stomach and this couldn’t be happening. This had to be a dream.

 

     “This is a dream.” Robbie said, dumbly. “Or a trick.”

 

     Sportacus shook his head. “It’s not! I thought you knew…”

 

     “Knew what?”

 

     Sportacus averted his eyes for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. “That I… liked you. I tried to flirt a little.”

 

_      No.  _ “You- You? You!  _ You  _ tried to flirt with  _ me _ ?”

 

     Sportacus nodded, perhaps the most sheepish Robbie had ever seen him. “I figured plenty of people had tried to flirt with you before!”

 

     “They have,” Robbie lied, on principal. “So this isn’t a joke?”

 

     Sportacus shook his head, laughing fondly. “No. No joke.”

 

     “And you… Like me.”

 

     He nodded.

 

     “ _ Like  _ like me?” Robbie clarified, with some trepidation.

 

     “Yes,” Sportacus said, laughing fondly again. “I do.”

 

     “Well,” Robbie tentatively held out his hand. “I like you, too.”

 

     Sportacus, ecstatic, immediately grabbed it, and before Robbie knew it they were very close again. Sportacus’s hands were clammy, or maybe it was his, but it didn’t matter because Sportacus was gushing “That’s  _ fantastic _ !” and grinning at him too much for Robbie to care.

 

     Robbie nodded in agreement, not being able to help the smile that was creeping on his own face. “So… Not because I don’t know, but, what are we supposed to do now?”

 

     Sportacus looked like he was considering something, or really play-considering something, from the little hint of a smile that Robbie could still obviously see. “I have an idea. Can I try it?”

 

     Robbie nodded, and then in a blink of an eye, he recognized that Sportacus- eager and enthusiastic as ever- had dipped and kissed him. Robbie, almost cartoonishly, wrapped his arms around Sportacus’s shoulders and let him hold up all his weight.

 

     Sportacus pulled back after a moment, still holding him, to his credit. “What do you think?”

 

     Robbie, a little bit dazed and even a little bit more in love than he’d been two minutes ago, took a minute to carefully think out his response.

  
     “Very good,” He said. “Do it again.”


End file.
